


if you lived here you'd be home now

by PaxDuane



Series: lift your glasses full of sunshine [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Established Relationship, Force-Sensitive Alpha-Ø2 | Spar, Force-Sensitive CT-6116 | Kix, Force-Sensitive Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kal Skirata is an Asshole, M/M, Mandalorian Adoption (Star Wars), Mandalorian Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mentioned Alpha-17, Spar's Background Revolution, background Jango Fett/Alpha-17, medics, taking repcomm characters and ignoring their characterization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxDuane/pseuds/PaxDuane
Summary: says a highway unriddled with lightsand maybe that's true--Bowerbirdby Molly ofGeographySpar would say that he and Mij's relationship is comfortable, now. So of course that means taking the next steps are on the horizon. When things go wrong back on Kamino, though, certain steps get shuffled around.He may have been in love with Mij for a long time, but he knew he loved Kix--somewhere between a kih'vod and an ad--since they first met. So he's damn well certain he's going to kill Skirata for this, one day.
Relationships: Alpha-Ø2 | Spar & CT-6116 | Kix, Mij Gilamar/Alpha-Ø2 | Spar
Series: lift your glasses full of sunshine [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144181
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	if you lived here you'd be home now

**Author's Note:**

> The theme, again, is  here.
> 
> Discussion of what boils down to child abuse. Starts with "... **He was already...weird."** " and ends with " **Spar grabs the spatula from the jug**..." It's not in detail, though. Also general discussion of murder but, you know. I'd also avoid the three paragraphs that say " **The GAR says they need Skirata,** " for more related to the child abuse issue. Not detailed discussion of treating injuries is also in this fic.

Spar stirs and smiles at the arm around his waist. When he finally forces his eyes open, Mij is asleep next to him. He doesn’t want to get up and move his arm, but his comm was left in the bathroom last night—both of their comms were—and he promised the commandos he’d get back to them this morning.

Mij’s arrival had been a surprise and he’d hung up practically in the middle of a meeting, barely sending apologies and promises because he was far in favor of kissing his ven’riduur senseless.

Mij stirs, too, as Spar moves his arm. “Where are you going?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Bathroom,” Spar promises, kissing under his eyes. “I’ll be back soon, go back to sleep.”

Mij grunts and open his eyes only to squint at him. “Okay. Come back soon.”

Spar grins, takes his face in his hands and kisses him softly. “Missed you,” he murmurs.

“Missed you too.”

He lets Mij drift back into sleep, padding across the rugs to the bathroom to find their comms. His has a myriad of annoyed messages from the commandos and one from Bajir. Mij’s has a few from Skirata and one from...

He grabs both comms and reads Bajir’s message, rushing back into the room. “Mij,” he says, shaking him. He can feel the urgency in his own voice, how it rumbles down his legs and into the earthen floor. “Mij.”

“What’s wrong?” Mij asks, sitting up.

“Skirata is a karking idiot,” Spar seethes, shoving Mij’s comm into his hands. “Bajir messaged me—Skirata is saying the ARCs don’t need a designated medic.”

That gets Mij going. “ _What_? What is that idiot thinking...”

“There’s a message from Kix,” Spar adds, pursing his lips. Kix has always been closer to Mij, but Spar knew from the first time he saw the two of them together that was going to happen. Once this war is over, Kix will have a place here with them, half a brother to Spar and half a son, and Spar treated him as such long before he confessed to Mij.

Mij’s heart breaks, Spar can tell. He curses, buries his face in his hands.

“Call Skirata and rip him a new one,” Spar tells him. “I’ll comm message Bajir, and Alvha, and I’ll call Kix myself. I should still be on with him by the time you get done with Skirata.”

Mij looks up at him, reaches out and reels him in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he breathes.

Spar holds on to his shoulders a moment, still seething. “If Skirata doesn’t have even a fraction of guilt, I’m going to gut him like a fish.”

Mij’s smile quirks ghostly up. “I’ll keep that in mind. Go...” He pauses, flounders.

“I’ll call our ad,” Spar says, determined all the more and amused when surprise flits across Mij’s face. Then he unfolds his legs from the bed and heads out into the living room. By the time he’s sent his two comm messages, he can hear yelling start up in the bedroom and moves himself to the kitchen. He’s only in a pair of shorts and one of Mij’s shirts, when normally he’d cook more properly dressed, but he’ll be on holocall with a medic. It’ll be fine.

Kix doesn’t pick up until the third ring, voice raw. “What?” he snaps, and he sounds so small.

“Kiki,” Spar breathes. “I need to talk to you.”

There’s a pause, a shuffle. “Spar?”

“Mmhm. Can you do a holo?” He needs to see Kix’s face.

“I... Yeah, give me a second.”

Spar clicks his own holorecorder on, turns to heat up the pan. He pauses, staring at the cast beskar, as the holocall connects, and wonders about when Kix will eventually be here with them. Maybe he’ll have his own cyare, by then...

“Su cuy,” Spar greets warmly, adjusting the comm so he can see Kix.

The little medic looks so lost, sitting on the edge of a cot in a trimmed off pair of upper blacks and a set of coveralls tied around the waist. “Su cuy.”

“Bajir messaged me about what happened,” he explains. “So I got a hold of Mij. He’s very unhappy with Skirata.”

There’s a little hiccup, half laugh half sob. “Good,” Kix says, makes the word sound like a swear.

“Skirata doesn’t have final say,” Spar reminds him gently, pulling butter and premixed flatcake better out of the fridge. “Bajir Fett does. Or Alvha, if Bajir has let him take that bit of responsibility. Skirata doesn’t work directly with most of the troopers—so the GAR won’t take him too seriously unless Bajir backs him up. And Bajir does _not_ plan on backing him up.”

“...so, I’d still be the ARC medic.”

Spar scrutinizes him and drops slices of butter into the pan. “Do you want to be?”

There’s a significant pause, enough that Spar can hear—or maybe just sense—Mij coming out of the bedroom. “I don’t want to work with Skirata. He was already...weird.”

Spar can feel the tension that pops up in his shoulders, at that. “What to you mean?” he asks, doing his best to keep his voice level.

“He didn’t like that I wouldn’t agree to, like, be _brothers_ with the Nulls.”

“You don’t need to be brothers with the Nulls. Skirata is not your father,” Spar tells him.

“He didn’t see it that way.” It’s almost petulant, but the tone does nothing to help the tension in Spar’s muscles.

He pours a circle of batter into the pan. “He pressured you?”

“He...” There’s another pause and Spar wants him _right here_ , in the kitchen with them. “Don’t tell Mij’bu?”

“Can’t promise that, ad,” Mij rumbles, crossing into the viewfinder. He leans up to kiss Spar on the temple. “I’m right here. What happened?”

Spar looks over to where Kix looks...ashamed. “What happened, Kiki?” he breathes.

“He...he hit me.”

“He _what?_ ” Mij asks, voice soft but still a near roar of emotion.

“He punched me in the stomach—I had to get one of the younger medic trainees to check me for internal bleeding. It knocked me pretty badly.”

Spar grabs the spatula from the jug he’s taken to keeping utensils in, takes hold of it with near white knuckles. “You’re coming here,” he decides, nearly hisses.

“What?” comes the chorused surprise.

“You’re coming here,” Spar repeats. “Bajir will bring you. You’re nearly ready to graduate, anyways, or would be if you hadn’t already finished the work years ago. You will come here, and you will stay here while Bajir and Mij kill Skirata and get rid of his body.”

The last part has the desired effect, startling a laugh out of Kix.

Mij’s gaze, though, implies he knows it was more serious than just the attempt at humor.

“Really,” Spar says, flipping the flatcake in the pan. “You will come here and relax and recover and help me with things—.”

“I’m fine,” Kix interjects. “No harm.”

“Bajir said you weren’t responding to anyone, after you heard Skirata,” Spar snaps. “I want you away from him. Even if you have to be based out of Keldabe.”

Mij nods. “He’s right. We’re getting you out of there.”

Kix makes a token noises of outraged protest, then slumps like a doll thrown from a height. “Okay.”

Mij takes the pan from Spar. “Use my comm to call Jango. I’ll finish breakfast.”

Spar nods and leaves the two of them to their own continuation of the conversation, taking Mij’s comm from where it’s left on the table. From there, he ducks back into the bedroom and comms Bajir.

“Mij?” Bajir greets.

“It’s me, Bajir,” Spar says, feels as exhausted as Bajir sounds.

“Oh, Spar. Where’s Mij?”

“I left him on my comm with Kix.” Spar sighs. “You need to bring him here. You, or Alvha, or _someone_ needs to bring him here soon.”

There’s a distant typing. “Alvha’s seeing a group off from the station halfway, and they’re leaving in a few hours. I’ll have him collect your ad and make sure he knows to take him to Keldabe after they’re on transports.”

“He’s not my ad...not yet.”

“Don’t protest so much, when I can tell this is your plan.”

“Why’s Alvha seeing them off?” he asks, needing a bit of a distraction.

Bajir laughs. “There’s a bit of a fight going on between members of two of the squads and he plans to put the fear of command in them one last time before they leave.”

Spar cracks a smile. “He’s a hypocrite.”

“He is, isn’t he?” The smile in Bajir’s voice feels good, so does the fact he can laugh. Alvha is good for him. “He’ll comm you before they get planet side, if you’ll be able to go meet them or set up other arrangements.”

“Of course.” He digs his own datapad from a drawer, also haphazardly stowed to better facilitate their night. “Thank you.”

Bajir’s voice goes from warm to deadly cool. “Make sure he gets some time out of his head. Things were...not good, there for a minute.”

“I want him dead,” Spar snarls, no need to explain who. “He _hit_ him, Bajir.”

The cool tone goes arctic. “He what?”

Spar explains and there’s a long moment of silence. He suspects Bajir is trying to get his breathing under control, to calm the buzz of cybernetics that mostly flared up when he was angry or when he’d gone through a long set with them.

“Take care of him,” Bajir finally says. “...And try not to let him get invested in that little project of yours.”

Spar scowls. “I know better than to get any of them involved.”

“Yes, but this is Kix,” Bajir says with no little humor. Once, he’d wished the Alpha class the same kind of students, or children, that they were to him. “Not one of the younger ones.”

“Will you give him an injection?” Spar asks, hopes.

Bajir sighs. “I’ll check Mij’s fridge.”

“Thank you, Bajir.”

“We’ll get it handled, so do your part.”

There’s a holodrama that Spir’bu got Spar into, when he first came to them. One part that caught his attention was one couple who were adopting a child.

He knows what he’s doing, like this. He’s taking apart the guest room, where mainly Bajir and Boba have stayed so far, when they come alone. He’s taking apart the guest room and putting it back together as something more comfortable as a sitting room and study. There’s still a bed, of course, and he hopes Kix likes the room. But he remembers the empty echo of the night with no one to breathe around him.

Mij helps, bemused, but he won’t be here when Kix comes.

Spar’s friends and the other commandos now know all of nothing about Kix. They’d say they know him quite well from Spar’s talking, but they would hardly come up with details.

Kix is his ven’riduur’s child, and close to his age—that they know.

Kix is a baar’ur—that they know.

But they could not tell you anything else, and Spar likes it that way. He trusts them, of course, but he hardly trusts the rest of this planet. No, it’s only the Gilamars that come away with any real knowledge.

Kix hates when you cook greens, is overly fond of salty snacks, and once at a whole tray of rice treats and got quite sick after.

Kix is smart, and on top of that his oversensitivity to the Force allows him to almost perfectly copy someone’s knowledge, though not memories like Spar sometimes gets, though he still needs to train his muscle reactions for things like fighting and surgery.

Kix is someone that Spar would kill for, easily, but the older clone is unsure of how _Kix_ sees their relationship. He’s unsure if Kix even knows quite exactly that he and Mij are together. But he’d still tear the world asunder for Kix.

So he sets up a room for his child and hopes he’ll like it. He kisses Mij goodbye and arranges transport for Kix, because he’ll be spending the day he arrives stuck in a meeting with his lieutenants to keep things moving along while he focuses on his child. They understand; their culture prioritizes family above all, even war which is what the auruetiise think they put atop a pedestal.

So he barely returns home for Kix’s arrival and stands anxious.

Those adopted parents had been so concerned, so determined. Will their ad like them? they asked themselves. Will they accept them?

“So this is where you and Mij live?” is the first question Kix asks, bag still hanging on his shoulder, mainly only containing lightweight armor. Clothing will be one of the first things to take care of.

“No,” Spar says honestly. “Mij technically still lives in the main house. Or maybe still Keldabe.”

Kix studies him, all grown but still not quite to the 5’7” he’ll reach, all grown but not filled out at all, and all serious. “But you guys were together when you called.”

“Yes.” Spar pauses, measures words. “We’re courting. So he comes and stays when he’s planet side, and we somewhat live together then, but until the war is over we won’t be married and so we won’t technically be living together. And he wants to move to Keldabe after, and open a new clinic.

Kix is all grown, all of the equivalent of seventeen-near-eighteen. Twice as many months, now, but still. He’s all grown with the big eyes of the child Spar hauled on his young hip and ran to the infirmary with, after he found the boy senseless.

Those big eyes study him, not yet grown into.

“And I...I’ll be...welcome?” he asks.

“Of course,” Spar says, because it’s the truth.

He can’t imagine “after the war” and not have Kix there with he and Mij.

“Of course,” he repeats, “You’re like our ad. You’d be more than welcome, because we’d always make a place for you.”

Kix’s jaw drops, twitches as he tries to force out words. “You’d want me?” he asks.

And Skirata said they didn’t, and somehow Spar and Mij fall under Skirata’s “they” for Kix.

“It’s not that we _would_ want you,” Spar says. “I think we already want you quite a bit.”

The GAR says they need Skirata. They don’t—Ordo can keep the Nulls in line better; Bajir has a better head for tactics.

The GAR says they need Skirata, that he beat a child means nothing to the Republics petty admirals, their nervous senators.

The GAR says they need Skirata, because they hate change and thinking more than they think they have to.

Sometimes, Spar doubts they will win the war. Maybe that’s why he wages his own Mandalorian crusade so silently. It’s mostly policy and influence, but it’s also a lot of directing people to jump up, grind some Death Watch troopers into the pavement, then get out.

Kix suspects, he thinks, and not like Bajir and Mij’s careful looking around the thing. They wouldn’t turn him in, quite the opposite. No they simply have no time, yet, to join in the clawing back their culture.

Kix sees ARCs in the living room, if they aren’t bleeding all over Spar’s furniture. Updated shots, vaccines for assignments, bone tending, and other things are done on the floor or the couch or the hearth. If they’re bleeding, or things are truly bad, Kix goes to them. Other times, he goes off as support.

Spar, of course, plots his course.

Mij sits with them in a rare moment of quiet. Tonight they’ll all pile in Spar’s bed, exhausted and craving connection, and in the morning Kix will go off into the city with friends and Mij and Spar will take their time remembering each others’ bodies.

They sit in the warm front room, which is all browns and goldens and the heat of the hearth before them.

“Will you adopt me?” Kix asks. “The both of you?”

Spar hadn’t realized they’d grown comfortable, together. He hadn’t realized until that moment how he puts blankets around Kix when he falls asleep in the front room, studying something new. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he always made Kix’s favorite flatcake recipe when Kix was coming home from a deployment. He hadn’t realized until that moment that Kix preferred to sit curled close to him, or that he talked at length about the clone who had taken over handling Alvha’s old squad, or any of the million ways they now fit together.

Mij fit together perfectly, with him. There were still gaps, of course, that’s nature. But Kix, Kix looking at them with “thank you for saving me, again and again and again” and “thank you for taking care of me, again and again and again” and “thank you for fighting for me, even when we lose” fits into those gaps.

Spar squeezes Mij’s hand. “Of course we will.”

And that night, with Kix asleep between them like the child in the holodrama would sleep between their parents, he tells Mij, “I wanted this so much. I’m glad we made it happen.”

Mij smiles. “I’m glad we did too. I would have been fine, coming back to just you, so we could move into Keldabe. But here, with him and you. We’re a family.” He pauses with a scowl. “Though a boyfriend is not something I quite expected so soon.”

“He’s grown up quite a bit before he was truly ours,” Spar points out. “I think it’s something we will simply have to deal with.”

“I suppose.”

Spar threads their fingers together, atop Kix’s up and down chest. “He was truly ours well before he asked, so you have even less a reason.”

Mij laughs silently at that.

“Kar’taylir darasuum,” Spar mutters.

Another silent laugh. “Kar’taylir darasuum.”

**Author's Note:**

> Language Notes:  
> Bajir -- my rough approximation of "teacher/trainer"  
> Ad -- "child" in this context  
> Su cuy -- From "Su cuy'gar: Hello - lit. so you're still alive". Basically, "Hey"  
> Ven'riduur -- future spouse/fiance/betrothed also used for when a couple is seriously courting  
> Baar'ur -- medic/doctor  
> Aruetiise -- Outsiders/traitors/foreigners  
> Kar’taylir darasuum -- "I'll hold you in my heart forever" "My heart will know you forever" "No matter what, forever, I'll hold you in my heart/my heart will know you" -- "I love you"
> 
> General Notes:  
> I really love SparMij and was planning on this mainly being about them being lovey dovey with Spar planning a rebellion in the background, but they had other things going on so uhhhh. Introduction to Kix, in this, my dudes. 
> 
> I wanted to kind of establish Spar as mainly thinking Kix doesn't consider their relationship, and the anxieties of being a kind of step parent kind of adopted parent coming into a pre-established dynamic. However, Spar and Kix met before Mij and Kix, and Kix really does relate to and adore Spar, so Spar is kind of an unreliable narrator in that context.  
> Spar is the equivalent of 21 here, so it's been four years-ish since he left Kamino. Kix is just hitting the equivalent of 18, which means before Spar left they had a three year/equivalent of six year age gap. Kix wasn't even doing the big sims, when Spar left, though he'd already been learning about medicine.
> 
> Both of them are Force sensitive to an uncomfortable to them degree--I'd actually come up with Kix's Knowledge Copy force ability before I started developing Spar's own force ability. It can interfere with their cognition, and very much did before they were taught to control it and got Force bonds (Spar to Jango, Kix to Spar actually, though those were all anchoring bonds versus a back and forth so none of those three consider them to be the basis of any familial relationship). The mention of Spar finding little Kix senseless in a hall is from an overload moment Kix had. I'd say they were the equivalents of 10 and 4 respectively. ~~The seeds of Spar falling in love with Mij came from him seeing Mij treat Kix so gently.~~
> 
> Skirata is a very convenient villain and one day I'll write a story where he doesn't go full asshole because I like his backstory and have Opinions. This is not a series that is going to happen, though.
> 
> I'll also one day write way more on the SparMij & Kix dynamic. I have _plans_ for that soon actually.


End file.
